Nameless
by withlovex
Summary: Kurt Hummel is a resident band geek. When Brad, his band teacher assigns him to be the pianist for the Glee club. He intends to get the job done and return to his life a the nameless gay kid. Until the fact that he can sing is discovered. NPxKH KHxJSJ
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: Kurt Hummel is a resident band geek. When Brad, his band teacher goes on vacation Kurt is assigned to be the pianist for the Glee club. He intends to get the job done and return to his life of being the nameless gay kid. Until the fact that he can sing is discovered by the Gleeks.

**Notes**: Just messing with Kurt's part of S1. Because of my alterations things will be a _little_ (a lot) different on his part. But, as said. The main ideas are there. Also, I wrote this because I noticed the band kids don't get a lot of shit. I wanted to explore why.

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><p>Maybe I was just being ungrateful; or maybe I just didn't realize how special I should feel for the offer.<p>

All I knew is that as a band geek, you got little or no recognizance from your peers. The bullying would still go on but it's almost as if you were faceless. I already stuck out like a sore thumb when I'd vocalize my opinions. It was enough for bullies from middle school to snicker in class or push me into to the locker. Oh gaga forbid someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed and decided the dumpster toss me as well.

But the nameless, faceless-ness was mutual. I had nothing to insult them off of besides their size and behavior. While they had nothing on me besides my voice. Which almost _screamed_ gay. We had nothing to address each other by, just blind-and maybe some not so far fetched insults. It's just how it worked, and thats for almost every social group. No one really knew each other outside of their clubs, the bullying was never _bad. _But it was there.

At the the beginning of sophomore year, the sunrise symbolizing a brand new chapter in high school—bodies were being pushed around in the hall ways in the rush to the bulletin board. I probably looked like an out of place freshmen with even more out of place attire. I've yet to have a growth spurt and was still rather short. And considering the fact the only people who even knew me were my freshman band mates, band teacher and bullies. I would not doubt the question rising when I walk into my sophomore homeroom would be 'Aren't you a freshie?'.

I groan, leaning back on the set of lockers as I wait for the crowd to disappear.

When there is no one left but a petite brunette staring up what I am assuming is a sign up sheet—I walk over, automatically searching for the band sign ups. A small smile creeps onto my lips at the thought of not having to stay after school for band practice with the freshman, and rather have class during the day instead. I pick up the pencil that is dangling on the abused piece of string.

"Are you going to do glee?"

I add a dot at the bottom of the L in my name, this has been my signature after I have read the love letters my dad had hidden in my moms dresser after she had passed on. She had done this with her signature, and I felt the need to as well. My eyes do not avert themselves from the sheet as I respond, memorizing the times.

"No, I can only imagine it interferes with my band practice. And even if the times don't clash I'd need the time for my piano lessons."

There is silence and I can feel the girl staring me down. Sighing, I turn to her as gives me this _look_.

"Well certainly make time. Of course I am very aware not everyone is fortunate to be as talented as I am in the arts. But you have to be very educated if you spend a frequent amount of time with instruments. If this is about being insecure about you voice, it's understandable and we could always put you in the background to harm-"

I make a loud, aggravated groaning noise. For once I actually look at her and am more than appalled. Not only was this girl friggin' _insane_, but she also dressed like a little girl. Which makes me question her sanity even more.

"Okay, sweetheart. Stop right there. I don't care what it is. Singing, dancing, performing. I will **not** be pushed to the back and let whatever talent I have go unnoticed. That being said, my interest does not rest in the vocal arts." I stop, letting my word's linger as I take in her confused expression. I smile smugly and raise my chin as I finish, the perfect touch to make anyone feel small.

"And I certainly don't want to be seen around someone not only _shorter_ than me, but who is also fashionably retarded."

**BAM.**

Her mouth opens slightly and she looks offended. I just roll my eyes and saunter off to my homeroom. Leaving her to watch me leave.

That stupid sign up sheet had changed so much MHS. And it broke too many rules. It's like everything went to hell at Mckinley the next month to follow. All the groups were scrambled and messed up.

But for some reason we were left untouched, we band kids. We were in no means a family or protective of each other. We really had no reason to be. We have never once done anything to stick out, which gave us no reason to stick together. So it's like we had no play in the social status pyramid. The only thing that could cause us to step into the light and end the faceless-ness would be the seniors who offered to play for the Glee kids. But even then, it was like a job you didn't want. You go in, get it done and go out without notice.

It's a job I could honestly say I never wanted, to. But knew as my music instructor had a firm grip on my shoulder, staring into my green eyes; was one that I'd have to take.

"Why me?" I squeak, frowning. Brad sighs and closes his eyes. Hes going to give me his 'I've known you since 2nd grade' talks, I know it. And mentally prepare myself for it as he begans to speak.

"Kurt..I'm going to be gone for awhile..Your the only one experienced enough to pick up a song just by looking at the notes. I've know you, I taught you. I know you work too hard on complicated pieces. And I know you need to have some sort of fun, your dad's worried because when your not practicing your listening to your mom singing 'My Wish' by the Rascall Flats on the cassette she left you. That's like your torturing yourself. You may not like it at first. But I know you, and I think this would be good for you..."

I look down as I mull it over. I don't want to do it. But I know hes right. I play too many complicated pieces and never try to have fun. I spend all my time in my room watching some fashion show, shopping online or—as said. Torturing myself.

I feel his eyes on me as I finally look up.

"Fine."

He smiles at me, and I knew instantly that I would regret this in the end.

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><p>Reviews are welcome but not necessary. And oh. If I we're to pair Kurt up, who would you like it to be with? No Blaine. I'm sorry but I only touch that pairing for smutt and dark!Blaine. He doesn't even show up in the season this is taken place in anyways. I'll add the crush on Finn but that won't be totally serious at all, I have plans for Carol and Burt.<p>

My favorite Pairs with Kurt are:  
>Purt<p>

Kurtofsky

St Hummel

Kurttany

I'm thinking St Hummel...I think in a weird way I might be able to get that to work. But there is a lot of time til anything relationship wise happens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary**: Kurt Hummel is a resident band geek. When Brad, his band teacher goes on vacation Kurt is assigned to be the pianist for the Glee club. He intends to get the job done and return to his life of being the nameless gay kid. Until the fact that he can sing is discovered by the Gleeks.

**Notes**: Keeping this as short as I can. Purt with a small helping of St Hummel. Going through to the end with Purt would be too easy is what I decided at school today. And I thought of a way to work it without pulling my hair out. Were you guys trying to give me a heart attack? x3 iluu all? C: I would have continued on with this regardless. But damn. If I didn't respond to your review, please don't hold it against me. I responded to the first few, but I didn't expect many after that. When I come around to checking things I'm usually tired or lazy to think of anything to say. I do read them, and I take into consideration what I am reading. I appreciate all of it. :)

OH PFFT. I don't have a beta. All mistakes are mine. Don't expect perfection,

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><p>I was really starting to question if having staring contest with inanimate objects could be something that suggests insanity. If that is so, I'm royally fucked.<p>

I've been glaring at the sign taped onto the choir room window for the last 30 minutes. I've obviously lost the 'contest'-not once. But _multiple_ time. It's as if I was in denial of my failure.

_**New Directions!**_

_**Practice After Last Period**_

_**Every Week Day**_

It's was laughing at me. Sputtering and spitting insults in my face.

I let out a exasperated sigh.

There was about 7 minutes left of said last period, my free period. I had earned my french credits in middle school and freshman year. So I didn't have to—and didn't _want_ to take it anymore.

This left me having nothing available to fill up the empty slot for sophomore year. Not willing to let me leave school grounds, Mr. Figgins—the Principal had placed me with being an aid in the library. Which, quite personally—I wasn't too thrilled about. The first week I had entertained the idea of enjoying the time with Merideth. The grumpy, bitter old librarian.

But after the annoyed glances that came my way died down and turned into an awkward, endless silence—I knew I had to ditch the dusty, vacant library when the opportunity arose.

So after a short explanation to Brad the night before his plane to California and a thumbs up from Figgins; it was set in stone that my 8th period I would have a self monitored study hall. Figgin's trusted Brad enough to know that if he was okay with this idea, then he shouldn't question it.

So this is where it had left me. Shifting uncomfortable, holding my messy pile of folders and music sheets in my one hand as my other-now clammy hand's grip is on my Flute's case. My plan had originally been to jump out of my seat in Economics, hand my classwork in, run to the band room and grab my flute—along with the sheet music for our winter concert and practice until the period was over.

But somehow, as I found myself on the far—less occupied part of the school where the choir room was located; I kind of just found myself taking in the foreign hallways. It had a more historical, ancient feel to it. As if it had so many secrets that had been left untold. Before I found myself here, glaring at that stupid sign. I had found my footsteps coming to a slow halt as I noticed I was walking past a small showcase.

Walking backwards until the showcase came into full view, I had leaned in and examined the trophies, plaques, photos and ribbons. At first I was confused. Mckinley High School has never been famous for show choir. Or at least, if it was. It was never discussed among the teachers or even my _dad_. But this- these trophies... this was symbolizing the success, the achievement. This was- as hard as it is to admit it. Proof that Show Choir had out shined the success of the band, football. _Everything_.

I felt a dropping feeling in my stomach. What did this _mean_? And what _happened_?

**Show Choir's **

**National Competition ***

**First Place Presented To:**

**William Mckinley Highschool**

**1990-1991**

I reach my hand out and lightly run the surface of my pointer finger against the cool, clear glass. This was the most recent, the year my mom had graduated and a few years before I had been brought into this world.

The memories of her dark green eyes, painted green skin and strong, beautiful voice echoing throughout Lima's public theater flash into my mind. It's making my chest ache, my head pounding. She walked these hallways, was here in their moment of fame.

I decide not to think about this, blinking the confusion away as I slowly walk to the direction of the choir room. I'd question dad about it later, and later was not now.

Now is here, in front of door that would eventually have to be opened. I finally snap out of my hate filled, glassy eyed trance. Pushing open the door as the bell begins to echo throughout the hallway—I find myself sighing as I tread over to the black piano located far from the stairs.

I realize this is the first time actually stepping into the room. And also realized it was most certainly not the last. I decide to suck in a deep breathe as I familiarize myself with my security blanket. The shiny, black beauty.

My flute's case is gingerly set down besides the piano's bench as I slip open the cover that was hiding the bright, black and white keys. My tongue darts out as I run it across my upper lip, plopping down on the bench.

I don't notice the door opening as I run my fingers across the surface—not caring as my usually immaculate hair falls into my face.

"Kurt...?"

I jump slightly at the soft, questioning voice.

For a few moment's I stand in fear, until the fact that yes—someone actually addressed me by my first name. This was rare, even among the teachers. I eventually lift my head, looking up to only see a friendly and confused face.

The friendly and confused face of a _stranger_. Well, not a stranger. But someone I've never really crossed paths with. I did, however remember the gelled, curly hair and sweater vests. I mean, who could forget such horrendous fashion sense and abuse of hair product?

I couldn't, thats for sure.

"That I am. I am rather alarmed that you know my name. Considering the fact that I don't believe we have ever conversed. Along with my assumption that I am not listed as any of your current or past students. Who might you be?"

A gigantic—but not all built junior—who I remember as being a football player looks our way. Confusion written all over his face. I also recognize him to be one of the nameless jock's who hovered around the dumpsters each morning. He speaks before sweater vest can respond.

"Are you new here, dude?" His eyes narrow as more of the glee kids begin to walk in, talking silently among themselves. I feel a few of them look my way but ignore it.

I roll my eyes and lift my chin.

"I'll let you know I am a sophomore. And don't call me _dude." _

The boy looks even more confused as the chatter begins to die down. He begins to open his mouth again, but the man with the gelled up hair lets out a sigh and rest his hand on my shoulder. I just continue to glare up at him.

"I'm Mr. Shuester. I am the New Directions coach..." His smile begins to falter as his words fade.

"I went to school with your parents. You look a lot like Elizabeth and Burt. Mr. Figgins also mentioned you joining us."

Not a good enough explanation as to why he seemed to look like a kicked puppy. But I shove it away and nod as another voice penetrates the awkward silence that had fallen among us.

"So we're seriously going to let this fairy join us? Our reputations are already in the dumpster. And considering the fact that I'm the one that throws him in there,I don't think I want to join him."

I turn my attention to the owner of the voice, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. I do not recognize or remember him at all. But yet he claims to be a dumpster tosser. This boy was not only nameless like the giant, but also faceless.

"I'm not here to join your show choir or whatever. My loyalty lies with Brad and the band kids—which is why I am here to fill his spot as pianist while he's away and the sub teaches freshman Band. And furthermore-do I even know you?"

I ask this honestly, and it obviously shows in my expression and voice. I notice a few people having a shocked or amused expression being slapped across their face.

"Um, white boy. Do you like-live under a rock?" A pretty black girl wearing what I'd define as a 'multi-color' zebra asks. She gives me a 'are you fucking crazy' look. I cock my head to the side.

"No...well, not really." I start. It begins to settle that maybe I do. Or else everyone wouldn't look at me like I've had grown 5 heads.

"I mean, no one even knows my name. So...why should I know anyone else by there's?"

There is still silence. Everyone looking around at each other as if they are asking 'who the fuck-?' I just sigh and turn back to the pianom pushing my hair back in its place as I feelit tickle my forehead.

"Tell me when you need me."

And that was that. They fall into what I am guessing is their usual routine. Discussing project's and competitions or whatever as I scribble answers to my Biology assignment. I was assuming I wasn't needed today and was getting ready to just hightail it out of here until I hear a soft, sweet voice begin to speak up. Expecting it to just be an idea being opened for discussion, I do not think much of the footstep's that stop behind me.

It's not until I feel a light tap on my shoulder and turn to the face the sweet smile of pretty blond that I realize that, I guess I will be needed. Because a small pile of sheet music was handed to me before I could protest. Not as if I _would_. But you know.

"I printed it offline, I hope this will be okay." I nod, glancing down at the sheet's.

**King of Anything **

**By Sara Bareilles**

I turn through the pages and memorize the first few notes, then placing the sheet in front of me in case I might need it.

I glance up at the girl, waiting for her cue. She looks slightly nervous—but still tries to hold an air of confidence. Finally I hear an inhale as she flashes a smile towards me. Nodding, I begin to play the intro as her voice fills the room.

**Oh (oh oh oh)**

**Oh (oh oh oh)**

**Oh (oh oh oh)**

**Oh (oh oh oh)**

I smile to myself, the girl had a pretty voice from what I could tell. Softer than Sara's however.

**Keep drinkin' coffee**

**Stare me down across the table**

**While I look outside**

**So many things I'd say if only I were able**

**But I just keep quiet**

**And count the cars that pass by**

**You've got opinions, man**

**We're all entitled to 'em**

**But I never asked**

I feel the crowd being sucked into the song and wonder what this could possibly be about. It's not my place, so I push the thoughts away and just continue.

**So let me thank you for time**

**And try to not waste any more of mine**

**Get out of here fast,**

**I hate to break it to you babe**

**But I'm not drowning**

**There's no one here to save**

Its then that I actually notice that the seniors we're there, I begin to blend in with the other instrument's. The other kid's begin to clap as well.

**Who cares if you disagree!**

**You are not me,**

**Who made you king of anything?**

**So you dare tell me who to be!**

**Who died**

**And made you king of anything?**

The instruments continue to play as there is a small pause, only to start up again

**Oh (oh oh oh)**

**Oh (oh oh oh)**

**Oh (oh oh oh)**

**Oh (oh oh oh)**

A few of the other girls chime in on the oh'ing, I'm guessing they stand at her sides by now.

**But you expect me to**

**Jump up on board with you**

**Ride off into your delusional sunset**

**I'm not the one who's lost**

**With no direction oh**

**But you won't ever see**

**You're so busy makin' maps**

**With my name on them in all caps**

**You got the talkin' down, just not the listening**

I hear the voices blending in with hers again, the clapping starting up as well.

**And who cares if you disagree!**

**You are not me**

**Who made you king of anything?**

**So you dare tell me who to be!**

**Who died,**

**And made you king of anything?**

They fade out as she sings the next part by herself,

**All my life**

**I've tried**

**To make everybody happy while I**

**Just hurt**

**And hide**

**Waitin' for someone to tell me it's my turn**

**To decide**

I can feel the ending approaching, assuming she was going to cut it short as the other girls joined in with the Oh'ing, letting it fade.

I let the notes fade out as well as the band does the same. To follow this there is a loud applause.

I finally look up at the girl, expecting her to feel accomplished or at least a bit better to get whatever she may be feeling out. Instead she has her head held tall as tears begin to crawl down her cheek's.

I frown, wishing to comfort her in some way. Instead she turns around and pulls her arms around herself, her body quivering as she exits the room.

The applause had died down by now as the club is dismissed. Whether they noticed anything wrong with the girl or not was beyond me.

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><p>Ah, so yeah. I'm not sure if I like this chapter...: Uhm. Oh I gave a huuuuge hint about Kurt's mom. And there is a major plot line involved but I dun plan on revealing anything. Jesse hasn't shown up _yet_. Probably not til like, 3 or 2 chapters. I wanted to add something else in this chapter, something silly that will lead to Kurt's first friendship with two people in ND. (It happens in the show) But I'll put it in the beginning of chapter 3. That being said. Please don't expect chapter updates to be as fast as this one. My dad's computer has a virus and it's very hard not to lose my temper. When my laptop is fixed I'll update often if Driver's Ed and Jer don't get in the way. C:

Also, idk much about public school. I go to a charter school, which is going to be turned into a big picture school. They are very lenient. I can't imagine it being much different, though. And I think you guys should especially know that I know little about music. I just know I like it.

Review if you'd like.


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